Gypsy Jane - I've Been Shot Four Times and Served Three Prison Terms?This is the Incredible Story of (10 page)

‘Fucking do something!' I screamed through my door. ‘Get the kid out of there and put her in with me.'

‘We cant do that because you are too dangerous,' said one of the screws.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. All the time the nutter was punching the kid and threatening her. ‘I'll read her a bedtime story and rock the poor kid to sleep but, for God's sake, get her out of there. She'll kill her,' I pleaded. ‘What that mad cow does to her will be on your heads.'

Eventually, the heavy mob got permission to get her out and put her in another cell for the night. But that kid tried to commit suicide three times after that night. And all she ever did was play her music too loud. She wasn't a villain and it just showed what prison can do to people. Word got around that the neighbour outside who had first complained about her music was a magistrate so we all knew why she got time for so-called
antisocial behaviour. I don't know how these people can sleep at night.

I was fuming about the whole incident. As soon as I was allowed out of my cell after the three weeks were up, I got the nutter. I smashed her all over the place. I really wanted to kill her but the heavy mob dragged me off and I was back down the block and in front of the Governor again. ‘I have just been informed by my security staff that you were acting in self-defence,' he said, to my astonishment.

I was going say it wasn't me, just like the last time, but instead I said, ‘Yes, sir. It was self-defence.' So I didn't get punished for that one and I must say the heavy mob earned my respect that day. Don't get me wrong. I didn't tell them anything and they were not my friends when I was inside but they got my respect. When I was taken back to my cell, they said, ‘Well done,' because they wanted to do the nutter too. I had done their job for them. It was funny how things worked out sometimes behind bars.

I had now been inside for three months and I'd heard no more about the charges against me. I was allowed out of my cell again to associate with the other inmates. I met a girl off my manor in Rainham. She was called Den and remembered the big yellow van I used for doing the beer run. She said she was there when I attacked the two Irish blokes – the two who were going to kidnap John – with my sword. We both had a laugh about that. It turned out that we were in neighbouring cells so one
of us would hang a mirror out of the cell window and we could see each other while we chatted. We became best mates inside.

Den and I were eventually moved to a dormitory with a girl from Liverpool, a gypsy girl, an Indian girl and a Greek girl. Den was in for supplying Class A drugs, the scouser for fraud, the Indian girl for the murder of her lover, the Greek for importing cocaine and the gypsy girl for credit-card fraud. We were all on remand awaiting trial and we all had a great laugh together. All of us planned to plead not guilty and one night the Scouse girl suggested we try a Ouija board.

‘I don't know about that,' I said. ‘I'm fucking scared of anything like that.' But I agreed because I really did want to know what the future held.

So that night, when the lights went out, we played the board. I said to the Indian girl, ‘Did you do the murder?' She said, ‘No.' I asked the board and it said she did.

‘You fucking liar,' I said. I couldn't stop laughing.

‘Jane,' she said, ‘I've got a couple of problems over his death.'

‘Well, tell us what they are and we'll try to help you if we can,' I said.

‘The police found his blood in the boot of my car.'

‘Fucking hell, girl. That's a serious problem,' I said. ‘What's the other one? We'll come back to that one, as that's a bit tricky.'

‘They found his body buried in my back garden,' she said.

She was so right and proper it was hilarious. She looked like butter wouldn't melt but, to be fair, she looked bang to rights here and the board agreed.

‘Fucking problems!' I said. ‘They are more than fucking problems, girl. I can't help you. You need God's help. He's the only one who can help you now.'

I felt for this girl and I came to totally respect her. She was trapped in an arranged marriage and hated her husband because she still loved her childhood sweetheart. But the husband got jealous and killed him and then got her involved in hiding the body. How sad was that for her? The husband was also in jail for the murder but I thought the Indian girl was innocent. He was the real guilty party.

Anyway, we asked the board what the verdict would be at her trial and it said she would be found not guilty so she was over the moon. And believe me when I tell you that this board was for real. It was. I know it sounds soppy. But read and learn.

The board told Den she would get a five stretch and the Greek that she would get eleven years. Now, the Greek girl was innocent, as God is my witness, having been set up by a so-called friend who secretly put liquidised cocaine in bottles of rum she brought into the country. The board said I would get bail on 11 May 1998 and also said I wouldn't come back to prison. The scouser would get 18 months and the gypsy girl would be released the very next day.

‘How?' asked the gypsy and the board said she
would get bail. ‘I can't' she said. ‘I haven't even gone for bail.'

Well, some of us got to hear what we wanted and some didn't but we all believed it was real, that night in prison. The ones who got bad news from it put it down to a bad spirit.

‘And bad spirits lie,' said the gypsy girl.

The next day the gypsy wanted to do the board again because it said she would get out that very day. So we did it again she asked the board if she would get bail and again it said, ‘Yes.' She asked when and it said at 2.45pm that same day. It was already 3.30pm so our confidence in the board was shaken, to say the least. But the gypsy totally believed the board and started ringing the bell for the screws to come. When they arrived, she said she wanted to talk to her solicitor on the phone straight away. The screws let her ring him and – you are not going to believe this – I swear, as God is my witness, her solicitor told her she shouldn't be in there. She had been granted bail at 2.45pm that day. So she told the screws and they checked the fax machine in the office and, sure enough, a fax had just arrived from the court informing the prison that she had been granted bail.

Well, this board game became our best mate. I asked it once if it minded us doing it and it said, ‘No,' but when I asked if it was bad to do it, it said, ‘Yes,' and we never did it again. But I'd just like to say that everything it said about our sentences came true. Den got five years, the Indian girl was found not guilty, the Greek
girl, who was innocent, got eleven years and I got bail on 11 May 1998.

The Indian girl was spending her £100 a week in canteen but saw none of the goodies. I asked her what was going on. She told me a Colombian drug baron, who was doing 25 years and so wasn't eligible for as much canteen as those on remand, was giving her money and the goods were all going back to her.

‘What do you get out of the deal?' I asked.

‘Nothing,' she said.

‘Tell the Colombian you are not doing it any longer,' I said.

‘No way. I'm terrified of her, Jane,' my pal said and showed me a threatening letter from the drug baron. ‘She's very powerful. This isn't your normal drug dealer. She is in here for a couple of tons of coke.'

Well, I wasn't amused. ‘I'll sort it,' I said. ‘I don't care who she is out there in the world because in here she is an inmate like you and me and I am not having her frightening me and mine.'

I took my mate to the bullying baron and told her she had taken the piss long enough and that now it was over. The baron looked at my mate and told her she would do as she was told or she knew what would happen. I could see I was not getting through to this bitch so I grabbed her by the throat and, when she opened her mouth, I stuck the threatening letter in it. ‘You lay one finger on her or her family outside and I give you my word of honour you won't ever leave this
prison alive,' I told her. ‘Now apologise to her or I'll kill you now.'

The bully totally changed her tune and apologised. In fact, she started trying to kiss and cuddle her victim. My mate had a heart of gold, poor girl, and that is what bullies thrive on. Every Sunday my mate's religious leader from her community brought her homemade Indian food. From that day on she shared it with me and her new friends. And believe me, it was the best Indian food I have ever tasted.

My dad was still visiting me every day without fail and John came with him sometimes. John was making me so proud and he never complained. He was doing really well. He was always with Shell's boys Darren, Kevin and Dean. I missed him so much but a big part of me didn't want him to see me in that situation. He was only 12 and prison wasn't the place for kids. I talked to him on the phone every day anyway.

Then came the day when Dad was late and I immediately got worried because his visits ticked by like clockwork. He had been a rock for me. I waited until the end of visiting time and he still hadn't shown up so I rang home and got my mum. I could hardly believe my ears. ‘Your dad has been in tears here, girl,' Mum said. ‘He turned up as normal but was told you had refused his visit. What were you playing at?'

‘I wouldn't do that, Mum,' I told her. ‘The screws told me he didn't turn up.'

Then the penny dropped. A nasty screw had told Dad
I didn't want to see him that day and told me he hadn't turned up. A despicable, outright lie. I'd been done. And what this screw had done was well below the belt. If she had a problem with me, she should have come to me and not used my dad. The moment I found out, I just lost the plot. I let the phone drop, ran into the screws' office and dived on the first officer I could find and started punching her. Of course, the heavy mob were called and they gave me a pasting but I got a few of them first. They weren't even the ones who had lied to my dad but at that moment they were all the same to me – scum.

I was back down the block for a week again and I swear, if I'd got hold of the screw who upset my dad, I would have killed her but I never did get to know who it was. The next time Dad came I apologised to him for what had happened, even though it wasn't my fault. But he didn't look right and, when I asked him what the matter was, he said he thought he might have had a stroke the night before. And I could see his face looked different – a little bit one-sided. I couldn't believe he had come to see me and not gone to the hospital first.

‘Get to the hospital now, Dad,' I said. ‘Just go.'

‘But I couldn't miss your visit, girl,' he said.

I packed him off straight away. I had never before cried when I was in prison. Police, bullets, Cat A and wars with villains on the outside had never made me cry either but that day the tears were running down my face. My dad was right. He'd had a stroke and was in hospital for three weeks but he had battled to Holloway
from the East End to be there for me. I thought that said everything I needed to know about my dad. Tough, loyal and full of love for me and his family. I love you so much, Dad.

My latest brush with the heavy mob led to me being moved into another dorm after I'd done my time in the block. The first minute I was in there I realised it was a Yardie dorm. There were four Jamaican gangsters in there – and me. They were proper Yardies, from Kingston, Jamaica. They were not amused that a whitey had been put in with them. And I can't blame them, to be honest, because they are very private people and, as far as they were concerned, I was invading their space. But there was nothing I could do about it when the screws were clearly having a good laugh at my expense. They put me there deliberately.

I could see the Yardies had got the hump but I still politely said, ‘Hello.' They blanked me so I went straight to my bunk. Then their leader, Big Momma, sucked her teeth at me and I thought, ‘Here we go.' As I was unpacking, they talked to themselves in patois – Yardie language – so that I couldn't understand them. In the end, nothing happened right then but there was a frosty atmosphere for a few days until I dropped something on the floor. It made a bit of noise and it was the opportunity Big Momma had been waiting for.

‘Why you make dat noise and ting, bitch?' she said and started sucking her teeth. Well, my attitude was that it was fine not to talk but I wasn't going to let them bully
me. It was time for them to meet the Gran. I jumped up and walked over.

‘I'll fucking kill the lot of yous,' I said, looking straight at Big Momma. ‘Let's fucking have it. If today's the day I die, it's a good day to die.'

That rocked her. To my amazement, she did something totally unexpected. ‘Me sorry, sister. Me don't mean nuttin',' she said.

I told her I hadn't done her any harm and didn't want to and from then on we all became good friends. In fact, I really got to like them. And they started teaching me a few Yardie phrases. Even so, I used to tie a pen in my hair for protection, which was just as well because I needed it when I had a run-in with the very top Yardie. She was another Big Momma – I'll call her Big Momma 2, to avoid confusion.

Big Momma and Big Momma 2 were co-defendants charged with smuggling coke. Now Big Momma 2 was not big at all. She was tiny but they called her Big Momma because she was the very top Yardie. She wasn't happy that I'd offered her mate out and it was something she had to be seen to be doing something about. She had a reputation to keep.

Big Momma 2's crew did everything for her, fetching and carrying all the time. The only thing they couldn't do was get her food for her at meal times because it was prison rules that everyone had to get their own. So what she used to do was push in the queue and everyone would let her do it, even though she was small. Nobody
wanted to deal with the rest of them. It didn't bother me until the day she brushed me aside when I was right at the front. She just gave me this cold look as if to say, ‘Out of the way, Whitey.' Well, as you will know well by now, I wouldn't have that. Not at all. I grabbed the plate off the kitchen worker who was dishing up the food and smashed it over Big Momma 2's head. Then I grabbed her around the neck and pulled the pen from my hair and held it to her neck, gouging it in so she knew I wasn't messing about. Big Momma 1 just stood back because she knew me well enough by now to know I would use the pen.